


Here for you

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, M/M, spoilers for episode 178
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 178!!!A discussion of support, culpability, and forgiveness.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 36
Kudos: 191





	Here for you

Martin glanced over his shoulder again. Basira was walking several steps behind him and Jon, eyes fixed on the ground at her feet and face set in a troubled expression. She had been like that for a while, now, closed off from the outside world and lost in her own thoughts.

It was worrying.

He reached out to his left, grabbing for Jon and squeezing his hand when he made contact. Jon glanced at him, one eyebrow raised.

"Martin? Everything alright?" He spoke quietly enough that Basira wouldn't hear.

"Yeah," Martin said, equally soft. "I just-" He stopped; started again. "Is there anything we can do? For Basira? I mean... I feel bad." It was the understatement of the century. He couldn't even  _ begin  _ to imagine the kind of pain and turmoil Basira had to be going through right now.

"No," Jon said, and he sounded sad. "I'm afraid... this is something she has to go through alone, it's..." He sighed. "It's not our place to interfere. I mean, we can be here for her... but she doesn't want us for that. Not right now."

"Right..." Martin sighed as well, glancing back once more at Basira. She hadn't even registered their conversation, still staring at the ground. Then he looked at Jon. "And... you?"

Jon frowned. "What about me?"

"Well..." Martin bit his lip, hesitating. "What you said. Back there. About- about Daisy, I- I never knew. Do you...  _ want  _ to talk about it?"

Silence.

"Jon?"

"I..." Jon took a shaky breath. "No. No, I..." His voice grew stronger as he continued. "Some things are better left in the past. I don't think talking will help me... help me  _ process  _ it, or anything, it would just..." His eyes grew distant as the words faded away. Martin gave him a moment, before prompting:

"Just bring it all back?"

Jon made a sound that was not a laugh. "Yeah. Yeah, that's a good way to put it."

"I'm sorry."

Jon shook his head. "No, no, it's... there's nothing to be done, you know?"

"I guess." Martin glanced at him. He could feel the corners of his mouth tugging down, his eyebrows furrowing against his will into a sorrowful expression. He  _ hated  _ to see Jon suffering. "Is there  _ anything  _ I can do?"

Jon's fingers tightened around his own, and he spoke quietly. "Hold my hand?" The request was followed by a self-deprecating laugh. "Sorry, I know that's not-" He cut himself off. "It's grounding."

"Of course, Jon." He squeezed Jon's hand tighter, hoping it offered him some small reassurance.

He'd never quite...  _ understood  _ Jon and Daisy. He'd only ever known her in the thrall of her worst urges, listening to the song of the Hunt; whatever efforts at reconciliation and improvement she had made after crawling out of the coffin had come and gone in the months he'd spent in Peter's employ.

They  _ were  _ friends, though, Martin knew that. Jon had talked about her, a bit, in the weeks they'd spent in Scotland. She had been there for him, willing to lend a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to lean on when no once else would. When Martin couldn't. She had helped him.

He'd never been blind to the things she did, even so. Now, more than ever, Martin understood that. Jon knew what had to be done. Still...

_ No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most... Even me. _

Basira might not have been able to see it, but Martin thought Jon understood what she was going through rather more than he'd been letting on.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Jon's hand tightening around his, grip almost strong enough to hurt.

"Oh- oh, god, Martin- Trevor, I-"

"What?" Martin said, startled by how distressed Jon sounded.

He stared at Martin, eyes wide. "I, I didn't- Trevor, with you, in the woods, you didn't know the plan, are you-" His voice was pitched high, on the edge of hysteria.

It took Martin a moment to piece together what Jon was asking, and when he did the realization hit him with the force of a freight train.  _ Helpless in the woods. _ "N-no, Jon, it's-" He shook his head. "Calm down, okay? Deep breaths."

Jon tried. His shoulders hitched slightly with each inhale, and his hand was still locked in a death grip around Martin's. Martin gave him the time he needed, and used that time to get his own thoughts in line.

When he spoke, it was with a slow, careful deliberation. "I'm not going to tell you it was  _ pleasant, _ being held at knifepoint. Or that I wasn't scared. But... no. No, Jon, it wasn't the same as... as you and Daisy."

Jon exhaled sharply, looking relieved, and his hand finally loosened around Martin's. He still seemed on edge, but it wasn't quite the buzzing, electric panic of a moment before.

"It's... I mean, look," Martin continued. "You were alone, yeah? I wasn't." He looked to the side, made sure to meet Jon's eyes. "And I  _ do  _ trust you, Jon. I was... the situation felt out of my control, yes. But I didn't feel powerless. I knew you were there for me, even if things went south. Even if things got out of  _ your  _ control, too."

A small, barely-there smile twitched around Jon's lips. "I swear I knew what I was doing," he murmured.

"Yeah," Martin huffed a laugh. "You always say that, though." He turned serious again. "I forgive you, Jon. Really, truly, one-hundred percent."

Jon opened his mouth to speak-

"-I'm not done," Martin said, and he shut it again. "I know you meant to tell me the plan, and you ran out of time with the statement and all, and that's- that's understandable. Just-  _ make  _ time next time, okay? If at  _ all  _ possible."

Jon waited to make sure he was done before speaking, softly. "I- I promise, Martin. I will. And- and I  _ am  _ sorry. I hate that I put you in that situation."

"It's okay." Martin leaned into his shoulder. "We're both just trying our best, here."

Jon took a deep, deep breath, and exhaled it on a shaky sigh. His shoulders slumped as he did so, tension draining from him. It seemed this had been weighing on him more than Martin had realized. "Thank you," he said. "You- you know you don't have to, right? Forgive me?"

The undercurrent of pain in his voice  _ hurt  _ to hear, as well as the implication that he thought what had happened with Trevor was anywhere near comparable to what Daisy had done to him. "I know that, Jon," Martin said, letting go of his hand and looping his arm across his back instead to draw him close. "But I choose to. Because I love you, and because you made a mistake. I know you would never deliberately put me in danger."

Jon stopped walking abruptly, turning and catching Martin in a hug. Martin let out a surprised breath as Jon ducked his head into the crook of his shoulder, folding the two of them together like interlocking puzzle pieces. He didn't say anything, and Martin closed his eyes and held him tight.

"Again? Really?" The flat voice came from behind Martin, and he twisted his head around to see Basira passing by him, eyes still fixed on the floor as she continued walking at an uninterrupted pace despite the sudden roadblock he and Jon had caused.

Martin's heart twisted in something akin to grief or pity. They may have finally found Basira, but it struck him then that she was still very, very alone.

"Sorry," Jon muttered, pulling away from the hug and gesturing toward a turn in the corridor ahead of them. "This way."


End file.
